Bet It
by NeverNik
Summary: It started out as an ordinary night in the pub. Then Harry had to go and make a bet, didn't he? Dramione, lemony, this uses a prompt from MrBenzedrine's Easter 2017 selection. Updated November 2017.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my go at using MrBenzedrine's Easter prompts: 'I swear, if you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to set it on fire.'**

 **Warning: I've NEVER written from a prompt before. And I'm a tad nervous. Just so you know.**

 **Context: post-Hogwarts, Dramione, bad language, no Voldemort, no bitter rivalries or arch-enemies.**

* * *

 **The Leaky Cauldron, one night after work**

'Hey Blaise,' Harry called across their table, ensconced in a snuggly corner of the pub. 'Bet you can't beat Ron in a game of wizard chess.'

Blaise threw a glance at Harry's smug mug, then over to his ginger mate, who was presiding over a pristine chess board and looking innocent.

Draco snorted into his Firewhiskey. 'Care to put your money where your mouth is, Potter?'

'What do you need my money for? It would be like Scrooge McDuck robbing a child of its pocket money.'

Draco, Blaise and Ron furrowed their brows. 'What's a Scrooge McDuck?' Ron asked.

Harry banged his head on the table a couple of times. 'Never mind.' To Draco, he said 'Fine. Bet's on, Croesus.'

Draco looked pleased. 'I know that reference.' He turned to Blaise. 'You're on, son. Don't fuck up.'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Oh, please.'

* * *

All four men expected a trouncing walkover, albeit at the hands of different players.

Yet four hours later, Ron and Blaise were still hard at it, neck-and-neck.

Harry was slumped in the corner, asleep, snoring softly, dribble escaping from his lips. Draco really wished he had borrowed Hermione's Smart Fone so he could take a photo of this epic portrait. Aside from that, the novelty of sitting at this table had worn off long ago, much like any feeling he had in his shapely bum.

He stood and stretched, yawning like a lion. 'I'm off, Blaise,' he mumbled, shrugging into his coat. 'If I stay any longer, I'll be sleeping on the couch.'

Blaise didn't lift his head up from the board. 'Uh-huh.'

'See you, Weasley.'

Ron didn't move his eyes from the board. 'Uh-huh.'

Draco leaned over the table and gave Harry a friendly shove.

'Argh!' Harry sat bolt upright. 'I'm not sleeping, honey, I'm just resting my eyes!'

Draco burst out laughing. 'Good night, dearest,' he cackled, blowing Harry a kiss. 'I'll be merciful when I come to collect my winnings.'

'Ass,' grumbled Harry, then looked at his watch. 'Shit! I've gotta go!'

* * *

Draco apparated to the home he shared with his girlfriend, Hermione. He found her curled up on the settee, nose-deep in a book, looking like a beautiful, bookwormish angel. Crookshanks was snoring at her feet.

Draco kissed her gently on top of her head. 'Sorry I'm late, love. Ron and Blaise were playing a chess game and time got away on us.'

She smirked. 'Blaise will lose.'

Draco paused in the middle of taking his coat off. Since he had now learned by painful experience that not listening to Hermione usually resulted in something bad happening, he faltered. 'You think so?' he said doubtfully.

Hermione put her book away, got up from the settee and switched off the reading light. 'I know so.'

'Crap.' Draco hated losing. 'Why are you never around when I do silly things like make bets?'

She laughed; a low, sexy laugh that Draco's interest rising. 'At home, patiently waiting for you to make love to me?'

He grinned and drew her into his arms. 'Are you done with being patient?' he asked, drawing his lips down her neck and kissing her pulse.

'Oh, yes,' she breathed, undoing his tie.

'Good. I've never been known for my patience,' he smirked. He scooped her up and carried her to their bedroom.

* * *

It was late. Not that Draco cared about his job, since he owned the company, but Hermione had to get up at an indecent hour to lawyer away her existence in a pro bono dump of a flea-bitten tenement, where she endlessly represented the poor, the downtrodden, and the often smelly.

So, no swinging from the chandeliers tonight. Instead, Draco slowly entered the woman he loved, loving how her body rose to meet his, how she tossed her head back and exposed her throat to him on his initial thrust. He moved languidly inside her, looking into her eyes, lowering them only to kiss her beautiful lips.

He could tell from the slightest hitch in her breath that she was on the path towards release. He sped up, whispering into her ear how she made him feel, what he wanted to do with her. She begged him to touch her, and he did, moving his fingers over her clitoris – and capturing her cry of release with his mouth.

Then he gave in to his body.

Giving thanks that she chose him.

* * *

 **Next day, Draco's office**

Draco's jaw dropped. 'You what?'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Lost, Draco. I lost.'

'But you were the best chess player Slytherin's ever seen!'

'Yeah. And Ron's the best chess player Hogwarts has ever seen.'

'Merlin's marbles. I'm going to have to pay the smug wanker.' He contacted his secretary. 'Colleen, can you book my diary out for half an hour, starting now? I need to sulk.'

'Certainly, Mr Malfoy.'

'I'll leave you to it, then,' said Blaise, hopping up and heading to the door. 'See you in the pub after work?'

'You'd better believe it! Oh. After I check with Hermione.'

Blaise smiled to himself. Somewhere along the way, we got thoroughly pussywhipped by our girlfriends, he thought. And it happened so subtly that I can't even begin to figure out when it started.

Which reminded him. He'd better check with his girlfriend, Pansy.

* * *

 **That evening, the Leaky Cauldron**

'I can't believe you're trying to welsh out of paying a bet! I tell you, Ron,' Harry teased, 'now I know how the rich get richer. They don't part with any of their money!'

Harry and Ron fell about laughing.

Draco looked at Blaise and rolled his eyes. 'Remind me why we hang out with these idiots.'

'For the entertainment value.'

'Ah, right.' To Harry, Draco said 'Look, I'm good for it. You know I am. I just thought you might be interested in making it best two out of three.'

'Three chess games?'

'Merlin, no,' Draco shuddered. 'I thought we'd try a different activity each round.'

Ron and Harry leaned forward. So did Blaise, who had no idea what his mercurial friend had in his head at the best of times. 'What did you have in mind?' asked Ron.

'For round two, I propose a broom race.'

Aha! Draco didn't miss the glint in Harry's eye. 'When and where?' Harry asked.

'No time like the present.'

'Now? But we've been drinking.'

Draco leaned into Harry's space, smirking. 'Scared, Potter?'

Harry snorted.

'All right, then. Twice up and down the length of Diagon Alley. How does that sound?'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

Well, then ladies?' Draco smirked. 'On your brooms!'

Everyone sculled the rest of their Firewhiskeys and hurtled out the door.

* * *

 **Later...**

'Oh, my gods!' shrieked Hermione. 'What on earth happened to you?'

Draco propped himself up against the bedroom doorway. 'Um, I fell off my broom.'

Hermione hopped out of bed and approached her boyfriend with caution. 'So, you're just covered in mud, then?' she asked. 'You're not injured?'

Draco looked down at himself. Luckily he had more suits than he knew what to do with, because he was pretty sure this one was buggered beyond redemption. 'Well, there might be a few bruises, and some scrapes under the mud,' he said vaguely.

'What were you doing on a broom in the first place?' demanded Hermione. 'You apparate everywhere. Or Floo if you're desperate enough to risk getting soot on your clothes.'

Draco dragged himself to the bathroom. 'The boys and I had a bet,' he began.

'Oh, gods, another bet,' muttered Hermione, running the bath.

Draco slowly unburdened himself of his swamp monster costume. 'We flew twice around Diagon Alley. It was pretty even for most of the race, so it became a bit of a scrum for the finish line.'

Hermione looked over her shoulder. 'Did someone push you off your broom so they could get ahead?' she asked hotly.

Nude, but muddy, Draco eased himself into the hot bath, wincing when the water enveloped his lumps and bumps. 'Sort of...'

Hermione was baffled. 'What does that mean?'

'Everyone tried to shove each other off our brooms so we all fell off.'

He thought he heard Hermione mutter 'God grant me the patience not to slap the shit out of every one of them,' but that didn't make sense. Why would his darling Hermione want to slap him?

He submerged himself under the water, and surfaced to find it significantly browner than it was before. Hmph. Must have collected a ton of mud in his hair. 'But that's not important, darling,' he called out. 'I won!'

Silence. She must have gone into the bedroom.

After soaking in diluted mud and letting his imagination go a little nuts with visions of Caesarean laurel wreaths being placed upon his golden head, Hermione appeared at the side of the bath again. 'So, is this the last of the bets, then?'

Draco sat up. 'Not yet, my dulcet dove,' he smirked. 'It's best two out of three, and Gryffindor and Slytherin are equal. The next bet's the decider!' Then he frowned. 'Except I don't know what we should do for the final bet.'

'Don't the others have any ideas?'

Draco looked at her.

'Ah. Sorry. Anyway,' Hermione said, pulling the plug out of the bath, 'you're not going to get any cleaner in there. Into the shower you go.'

He took her hand and hoisted himself out of the bath. 'I love it when you get all bossy.'

'I'm always bossy. It drove you mental in school.'

'Yeah, but now it makes me hot.'

Hermione turned the shower on and beckoned him. 'In you get, Casanova.'

He strutted past her, showing himself off to his fullest, if tide-marked advantage.

She started laughing. Gods, she loved him so.

As he lathered up, she removed her night attire and stepped in behind him.

He turned and kissed her leisurely. 'I knew you'd come crawling,' he smirked.

She slapped his bum.

'Oh, is that how you want it?'

* * *

 **Still later…**

'Hermione?'

She snuffled and turned over in their bed to cuddle up closer to Draco. 'Hmm?'

'Do you have any ideas for a third bet?'

Out of his line of sight, she rolled her eyes. 'Why don't you all get your penises out and see whose is the largest?'

'Hmm. That's not bad…'

'What if you're not the biggest?'

Draco snorted. 'Darling, please.'

Hermione looked at him and smirked. 'You do recall that I know what Ron's penis looks like, right?'

Draco contemplated that statement. 'No. Surely not,' he laughed.

Silence.

'Hermione?'

Shit. She'd gone to sleep.

Hermione allowed herself a tiny smirk. Too easy, she thought.

Draco stared at the ceiling for a jolly long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**The next morning**

To Hermione's immense surprise, Draco was out of bed when she woke up. She discovered him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and poring through a copy of _Grey's Anatomy_ , a tome she referred to when conducting wrongful injury claims on behalf of her clients.

'Good morning!' Hermione kissed his cheek on the way to make herself a cup of tea. 'Enjoying the book?'

'Uh, not really,' Draco mumbled. He closed the book and set it down, looking a little green.

'Were you after something in particular?'

'Oh, no, no. Not at all, in fact. Just interested in the, er…' He shot out of his chair. 'Oh, no!' I'm late for a… thing! See you later, love.' He aimed to kiss Hermione's cheek but missed and kissed air instead.

'Okay, darling,' Hermione said as she stirred her tea. 'Will you be going to the pub to' –

Pop! Draco had apparated.

\- 'night?' she finished in bewilderment.

She made a mental note to send out some owls when she got to work. Time to have a chat with the girls.

* * *

 **Later that morning, Draco's office**

'Yikes, Draco. You don't look so good.'

Draco stared at the wood markings on his walnut desk. 'I can't get those images out of my head.'

Blaise sat opposite him and handed over a takeaway coffee. 'What images?'

Draco shuddered. 'Do you know how many diseases of the penis there are?'

Blaise was used to all sorts of odd questions coming from his best mate, but this one was a doozy. 'No,' Blaise replied shortly. 'And I don't want to know.'

Draco nodded sagely. 'Very wise.'

'Why are you looking at pictures of diseased penises, anyway? Because if this has something to do with the next bet, you can count me out,' Blaise warned. 'My ears are still ringing from Pansy's telling-off last night.'

'Just a side project,' Draco muttered hastily. 'To be honest, I can't come up with a decent third bet. Guess we'll have to brainstorm it tonight in the pub.'

'It might be easier to pray for intervention,' suggested Blaise.

'We can do both.'

* * *

 **Evening at the Leaky Cauldron**

Four heads – two dark, one red and one blonde - bowed in concentration over their Butterbeers as they tried to come up with a third bet that was satisfactory to all parties.

Sometimes prayers are answered.

'Hi, boys!'

All four heads popped up in surprise as four lovely ladies made their way through the pub to their table.

'Hello, love!' Draco smiled his first genuine smile of the day as Hermione sat next to him. The others happily made way so that Pansy, Ginny and Lavender could sit next to their respective partners. 'Fancy seeing you here!'

'Well, it appears that some bets have been keeping our men from coming home at reasonable hours, so we thought we'd stop by where the action is,' Hermione smiled. She kissed Draco lightly on the lips, glad to see he looked happier than he did this morning.

'And, to be honest, we don't want to see a repeat of last night,' added Ginny. 'I've never seen so much mud inside a building in my life.'

Harry turned red.

'Which is why,' Pansy said, signalling the bar for some Butterbeer, 'we've decided to help you select your last bet. Unless you've come up with one already.' She looked at Blaise apprehensively. 'You haven't, have you?'

'Nope. Not yet.'

'Thank Merlin,' shuddered Lavender.

'Excellent,' said Hermione happily. 'Why don't you all try growing a beard for thirty days? Longest, fullest beard wins. And not even you four could possibly come to physical harm from doing it.'

Silence.

'Don't all applaud me at once,' said Hermione archly.

'Who would judge the beards in the end?' Ron asked. 'It can't be any of you. You're all biased towards at least one of us.'

'We'll ask the wizard with the best beard of all to judge them!' said Ginny happily.

'Who's that?'

'Dumbledore!' supplied Lavender.

The boys started laughing. 'As if he'd be interested in a stupid beard competition!' Blaise cackled, until he saw Pansy's face. 'Sorry, sweetheart.'

'I Floo-called him today,' Hermione said smugly. 'He said he'd be delighted to.'

The table lapsed into silence again as the boys looked at each other.

'You know,' Hermione said idly, 'beards were traditionally regarded as a sign of virility and dominance in men.'

Four pairs of male ears pricked up. 'That so?' asked Draco, oh-so-casually.

'Oh, yes,' Ginny continued. 'Men with full, lush beards always got the pick of the women over men with ratty little beards.'

The ladies sipped their Butterbeers and waited.

'Sounds like a good idea to me,' said Draco. 'All in favour?'

'Aye.'

'Aye.'

'Aye.'

'Carried!' said Draco.

'Oh! One thing I forgot to mention,' said Hermione. She stared down each and every man. 'No magic. You must grow them naturally. Professor Dumbledore has been instructed to scan for magic on the final day. If he finds the slightest smidgen of it, you lose.'

That's the trouble with an intelligent girlfriend, Draco lamented. They're so damn intelligent.

'We wouldn't dream of it,' said Blaise courteously.

The girls beamed. 'Good!' said Hermione. 'Ladies, fancy a curry and a movie at ours while the boys grow their beards?'

'Sounds perfect!' They got up, kissed their boyfriends goodbye, and shashayed out of the pub.

The boys watched their girlfriends' arses as they departed.

'Now,' said Draco, returning his gaze to the trio. 'What are we going to do for an _actual_ bet?'

'Yep.'

'Yep.'

'Yep.'

They put their heads together.

* * *

 **The following evening at the Leaky Cauldron**

Blaise, Ron and Draco stared at the box that Harry plonked on the pub table.

'That's it?' Ron asked uncertainly.

'Sure is.' Harry prised the top of the box. 'Gentlemen, welcome to Jenga.'

Draco pulled a block out. 'It's just a bunch of short, stubby sticks.'

'That's right,' he said. 'We set the game up by stacking the blocks on top of each other in sets of three. Each player uses one hand to pull a block out from the tower and put it on top. The last person to stack a block without toppling the tower is the winner. And without using magic, as agreed.'

Draco smirked. 'Easy.'

Harry smirked back.

Turned out, it wasn't as easy as Draco thought.

* * *

Battle Jenga ended up taking over three hours, after Blaise, Draco and Ron insisted on some 'practice' games first, so that the Muggle-raised representative didn't have an advantage.

The pub staff were in two minds about whether they approved of this particular bet. One the one hand, the boys were keeping more or less quiet. On the other, they were concentrating so hard they kept forgetting to drink up.

They were relieved in the end when the final battle was completed and Blaise emerged from the metaphorical dust and debris as the winner.

Slytherin two; Gryffindor one.

* * *

Hermione was in the kitchen going over some statements in preparation for a hearing in the morning when Draco apparated in.

'Hi love, how was the pub?'

'Exhausting,' groaned Draco, and dragged himself off to the bedroom.

Hermione followed him five minutes later – only to find him out cold, face down on the bed, still clothed.

She looked at the time. It was only nine-thirty.

She looked up. 'When I said I wanted him home earlier, Lord, this wasn't quite what I had in mind.'


	3. Chapter 3

**A week later**

Draco inspected his face in the bathroom mirror. Curse his aristocratic forebears and their generations of pale hair! His beard was coming in; he could feel it – it was just damn hard to see it.

He Floo-called Malfoy Manor.

'Father, have you ever grown a beard?'

'Good gods, no.'

'Why?'

'Because Malfoys look stupid with beards.'

Oh.

'Okay, thanks anyway,' said Draco.

'By the way, Mother wants you and Hermione to come to tea on Sunday.'

'All right, I'll let Hermione know.'

'She also wants to see a wedding and some grandchildren.'

'Uh, I think someone's at the door. Bye, Father!'

Hermione entered the living room, pulling an irritating earring from her ear. 'Who was that, love?'

'Oh, that was Father. He says that beards make Malfoy men look stupid.'

'Aww.' Hermione smiled and hugged Draco. 'You don't look stupid,' she purred. 'You look virile and manly.'

Draco puffed up his chest. 'You think so?'

She smirked. 'I know so.' She leaned in and kissed him. 'Although, it takes a bit of getting used to, kissing you with a beard coming in.'

'Takes a bit of getting used to just wearing one. It's damn itchy.'

'The itchiness will pass,' Hermione intoned solemnly.

'Speaking from experience, are we?'

She swatted him. 'I can't bear itchy legs or armpits or… other places… so I never let them get to that stage.'

He pulled a face. 'Sweetheart, I'd prefer not to know how you keep looking so beautiful and smooth. I'd rather it be all an unfathomable, wonderful mystery.'

She giggled, then looked coyly at him. 'Want to spend the evening in bed?'

Draco froze. 'Um… I have some stuff to… oh, Mother wants us over for tea on Sunday.'

Hermione sighed. 'Will we be spending the entire time ignoring her not-so-subtle hints about weddings and grandchildren?'

'Without doubt.'

Hermione huffed. 'She doesn't seem to understand that I want to get some experience in my career first before having children, does she?'

'Nope.' Draco rubbed her nose with his own. 'But I do.'

She leaned into him. 'And that's what's important.'

* * *

 **A few days later at the pub**

'One last bet, gents, what's it going to be?' Draco rubbed his hands together.

'If we were still single, we could have a bet on the first person to get a girl's Floo number,' Ron said.

'That would have been pointless,' Draco pointed out.

'Why?'

Draco smirked. 'Because I would have won. Every time.'

Blaise snorted. 'Speak for yourself.'

'True, true,' Draco conceded. 'But it's definitely safe to say that Slytherin would have kicked Gryffindor's arse in that endeavour.'

Harry glanced at Ron. 'Now I know what Hermione sees in him. His all-encompassing humility.'

Blaise sighed. 'Look. Has anyone got work tomorrow?'

'Nope.'

'Nope.'

'Nope.'

'Good. Last man standing after the most potent shots the pub can make wins. How does that sound?'

'Like a thoroughly good idea,' said Ron.

* * *

 **Later…**

Draco stumbled out of the Floo, tripped and fell face-down onto the living room floor.

Hermione was on the sofa, reading. 'Who won?'

''Arry,' Draco mumbled to the floorboards.

She put her book down. 'Is this the last stupid bet you boys are going to do?'

'Still growing beards.'

'I said _stupid_ bet.'

'Oh. Yup.'

'Good.' Hermione hopped off the couch and left the room, followed by Crookshanks, who stopped to sniff Draco's prostrate form. He smelled like a fire hazard.

'You're sleeping in the spare room tonight!' she called.

No I'm not, he thought rebelliously. I'm going to sleep right here. So there, missy.

* * *

 **Two weeks later**

 **In bed one night**

Hermione walked her fingers slowly up Draco's arm. 'Honey?' she purred. 'Want to put that book away?'

Draco gripped the book tighter. 'Um, not yet, I'm at a really exciting part at the moment.'

Hermione looked at the book's cover. _101 Uses for Eyes of Newt._

Frowning, she extended a finger and pulled the book down to Draco's lap.

He looked at her over his reading glasses. 'Yes, dear?'

'Draco, am I imagining it, or are you avoiding having sex with me?'

'Me?' Draco looked somewhere slightly over Hermione's head. 'Of course not, why would you think that?'

'Because for the past two weeks you haven't initiated sex once, which is very unusual for you. And every time I try to initiate it, you fob me off with ridiculous excuses, such as wanting to read the climax of _101 Uses for Eyes of Newt_. Which I've read, by the way, and I can promise you there is nothing in that book worthy of a climax!'

Tantrum over, she held his hand. 'I'm worried, darling.' She bit her lip. 'Don't you find me attractive anymore?'

'What? Merlin, no!' He tossed the book away and took her hands. 'You're the woman of my dreams,' he whispered, and kissed her slowly, gently.

She gave him a watery smile. 'So, what's happened?'

Draco sighed and touched his forehead to hers. 'You're going to think it's dumb.'

Hermione traced his lower lip with her thumb. 'I promise I won't think it's dumb.'

'Well, okay. Remember a couple of weeks ago you said that you'd seen Ron's penis before and, well, possibly implied it was, um, bigger than mine?'

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. 'Draco,' she said earnestly. 'I was joking. Ron is not in your league. At all. There is nothing for you to feel self-conscious about. I'm sorry if I made you feel inadequate.'

Draco's eyebrows raised. 'Well, that's good news,' he said archly. 'But that was a pretty mean trick you played. Researching possible penis enhancement is not a thing I'm ever going to forget. I'm not sure whether I should kiss you or spank you.'

'How about you kiss me, then spank me,' whispered Hermione sexily.

He smiled as he kissed her. My cunning little trickster, he thought.

Hermione smiled as she kissed him. My gullible idiot, she thought.

* * *

 **Next day**

'Hermione?'

'Draco?'

'You remember how we decided not to have children until your career was established?'

'Yes.' Hermione put down the spoon she was using to stir some soup and turned to him, sitting quietly at the kitchen table. 'Why? Have you changed your mind?' she asked, a tad defensively.

'No, of course not!' Draco looked taken aback.

'Oh.'

Draco traced a pattern on the kitchen table. 'I was just wondering if there was anything in particular precluding us from getting engaged.'

Hermione pondered, tapping her chin. 'I can't think of anything' – wait a second…' She looked closely at Draco, who seemed a little jumpy. She approached the table and sat next to him. 'Are you proposing to me?'

'Proposing?' Draco squeaked, then cleared his throat. 'No! No. More like a' – he searched for the word – a 'pre-proposal, as it were.'

Hermione tried not to laugh. 'A pre-proposal?'

'Yeah.' Draco gently took her hands. 'When I actually propose, it will be the most romantic experience of your life, I promise. But that takes organisation, and I wanted to get a ballpark idea of what your response might be before I organise it.'

Oh my gods, this is too cute, Hermione thought dizzily. He's actually blushing while he pre-proposes to me!

'I have to say that's a relief,' Hermione said as solemnly as she could muster. 'I'd hate to think that if I said 'yes' here that I'd be denying myself a romantic spectacle somewhere else.'

Light shone in Draco's silver eyes. 'Are you saying 'yes' to my pre-proposal?' he asked hopefully.

Hermione beamed. 'Yes, I'm saying 'yes' to your pre-proposal.'

Draco whooped and gathered her up in a hug that left her breathless. They kissed passionately, until Hermione struggled and pulled away.

'What's wrong?'

'Beard rash,' Hermione said, gingerly touching her face.

He inspected it. 'Oh. That doesn't look good.'

'Doesn't feel good, either.'

He kissed the tip of her nose. 'Sorry, pre-fiancée. Tell you what. You can choose the venue for my actual proposal.'

Hermione perked up. 'Anywhere in the world?'

'Anywhere in the world.'

Well, I've always wanted to go on an African nature safari and observe the lions in their natural habitat…' she looked up hopefully.

Draco kissed the ring finger of her left hand. 'Whatever my lady wants,' he smiled, looking into her eyes.

'Can I ask one teensy favour?'

'Sure, darling.'

'Can you give me the ring after Dumbledore's judged the beard bet? Right after?'

'I'm not even going to ask why, but sure.'

Hermione hugged him. 'I love you so much.'

Draco threaded a hand into her curls. 'I love you, too.'

* * *

 **Judgement day – for beards, that is**

It was a solemn occasion in the pub, for the day of judgement had arrived. Four men stood tall and strong in a line in front of the bar. Professor Dumbledore strode slowly up and down the line, peering at the beards as solemnly as if he were inspecting a recently-discovered copy of Merlin's original grimoire, blots, spelling errors and all.

Their ladies sat at a nearby table, chatting over the latest Witches' Weekly.

Draco, Harry, Ron and Blaise stood silently as they put up with Dumbledore's inspections. Their masculinity and virility was on the line, after all. Ron was particularly panicky. His attempt at a beard resulted in an anaemic, scraggly effort, with visible patches in between the fuzz. His worst fears came to fruition when Dumbledore looked at him kindly, patted him on the shoulder and shook his head.

He hung his head and slunk off to the ladies' table, where he was comforted by Lavender's ample charms.

Harry was now the sole Gryffindor representative. It was two all in the betting stakes. This was the decider. Who would Dumbledore pick?

The remaining boys reined in their sighs when the good Professor whipped out an ancient dressmaker's tape measure, and started meticulously measuring their beards.

* * *

 **Eventually…**

Professor Dumbledore held up his hands, and the entire pub fell silent. Not for nothing was he the best headmaster Hogwarts had ever had.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he announced. 'After lengthy consideration, I have decided on a winner of the beard competition.'

Then he launched into a long and rambling monologue about the art of cultivating facial hair that even had Hermione's eyes glazing over with ennui.

'Please, Professor,' she eventually pleaded, 'don't keep us in suspense! Who is the winner of the beard contest?'

'Ah! Of course,' chuckled Dumbledore. 'While none of the entrants came remotely close to the splendour of my own effort' – he patted his whiskers proudly – I declare the winner of the beard contest to be – Mr Malfoy!'

'Omigod!' Hermione shrieked and jumped up to hug her victorious man, in amid a chorus of moans and groans from everyone else.

'Please don't be too smug,' she whispered in his ear.

'Don't worry, I have it all in hand,' he promised.

'Everyone! Everyone, please! I have an announcement to make!' Draco called.

Many pairs of eyes turned to him sceptically.

Draco took Hermione's hand and smiled at her fondly. He opened his mouth and said:

'Drinks are on me for the rest of the evening!'

Everyone cheered and dashed for the bar.

Amid the scrum and clamour, Draco pulled a beautiful ring out of his pocket and placed it on Hermione's finger. 'And I would also like to announce my engagement to Ms Hermione Jean Granger,' he said softly, gently kissing her.

She laughed and hugged him. 'Freshen your drink, mister?' she asked coyly.

'Don't mind if you do,' he smirked and swaggered to the table.

Hermione shouldered her way to the bar and squeezed in next to Ginny. 'A Firewhiskey and a mulled wine, please!' she called to the harried barkeep.

'What's that, luv?' he hollered.

Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth and shriek-repeated the order.

Suddenly, her left hand was caught in a death-snare. Ginny was staring down at Hermione's hand - now starting to lose circulation - in shock.

'Tell me that's not what I think it is,' she growled.

Hermione's smirk was truly worthy of a Malfoy. 'It is.'

Ginny stamped her foot. 'Ah, hell!'

When all were gathered around their usual table, Ginny sighed and said 'Pansy, Lav, we have to pay Hermione a Galleon each.'

Hermione put her left hand on the table and tried not to look ridiculously happy. Which, of course, she was.

As Galleons started being flung desultorily in Hermione's direction, Draco pulled her close and asked 'Why are women throwing money at my fiancée? Not that I'm complaining.'

Hermione nuzzled Draco's ear. 'We ladies had a bet of our own.'

'First to get engaged?'

'You were as solid as Gringott's bank, darling.'

* * *

 **Later, at home**

It was time for a celebration. Clothes were removed, the Floo was blocked, and Crookshanks was tossed unceremoniously outside to amuse himself.

Draco had Hermione just where he wanted her: naked, on their bed, moaning and writhing under his lips and fingers.

Down further her journeyed, to the centre of his universe….

….until he was pulled up by an almighty shriek.

'I swear, if you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to set it on fire!' Hermione leant on her elbows and glared at him.

'But darling' –

'No! You are not going anywhere near anything until you lose the beard. Beard rash from kissing is one thing. Beard rash from cunnilingus is quite another.'

Draco pouted to the best of his ability, but to no avail. Hermione's arm had pointed, and it pointed to the bathroom.

Hangdog, he slunk off in the arm's direction. 'Will you wait for me until I get back?' he asked hopefully.

Hermione rolled onto her front and looked at him seductively. 'I always will,' she said.

'Hold that thought,' said Draco and nipped into the bathroom for the fastest de-bearding of a lifetime.

The End.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed that little story!**


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